THE FEAST ON ANOTHER
It’s in that moment; moment of broken substance.
That moment she screams “it is coming” … It was in that moment her water broke
then granny broke the pot that held the water for their king-men’s ablution.
Her scream mirrored the roar of thunder; she was ready
to shed that protruding burden for whom all had waited through nine moons.
It’s in that moment, it ends-the journey of a thousand miles…men can only imagine.
It ends right there in-between her legs and it could begin for another
if it popped out with a slit between her thighs and a womb beneath its tiny belly
then it will begin.
It will begin right there in-between her mother’s legs-the chronicle of tears.
She shows forth to bow to her fate in the scriptures of her father’s faith.
It will begin with a bow; it begins in their surrender of her will to a borrowed faith
from foreign entities…to scriptures written in strange tongue
a tongue she would later learn, under duress and a dress to veil her face
from worldliness, freewill and a million things that may leave her print in the sands of time.
The veil may yet soak the sweat and tears that will flow when the feast will begin.
It will begin with the feast.
The pebbles on her chest get bold enough to push through her dress
into the eyes of men whose tail wags at the sight of a girl.
The one with means to pay her price
would shroud his queer appetite in scriptures
and ask her hand; with a feast to begin the feast on a girl.
It will begin with tears.
Her mother will snatch her folded hands, to hand them to her father
to hand them to him whose cravings spare not the meal of a child.
Her frail hands are tied to faith, fate
and the foot of a man who has room enough for four.
Her tears will flow
when the slit between her thighs ceases to be a secret known only to her
he tears it apart…worse still, when her scarlet fluid is not yet a monthly due.
He plucks her flower and roams the garden at will.
Now she is called a woman while the torch of her childhood is still aglow.
Strangely to her, it begins; that journey through nine moons
her mother mentioned in passing.
When it ends with the scream of the girl, and the whispers “it is a girl”
then it will begin, the feast on another girl.
